Mon Ami
by Iaveina
Summary: The woven band Esmeralda gave to Quasimodo used to belong to somebody else. Oneshot. Disney


**Mon Ami**

**Summary: The woven band Esmeralda gave to Quasimodo used to belong to somebody else. [Disney]**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunchback of Notre Dame although I wish I did. Victor Hugo wrote the book (if you didn't know), and I'm reliably informed that it's pretty good, if slightly heavy-going. Disney did the animated film (and quite splendidly so if I do say so myself!)**

**Even five years later I still love Clopin xD.**

**ORIGINAL: 14/03/2008  
REVISED: 08/02/2013**

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"Again! Again!" A small girl with bright green eyes exclaimed joyously, clapping her small hands together. An older boy tapped her lightly on the head with his violin bow, a bright smile on his face.

"Now now _ma chérie_," the boy teased, grinning mischievously as he twirled the bow like a baton. "Say the magic word!"

The little girl looked confused for a brief second before her eyes lit up. "Please!" She cried, clapping her hands together energetically. "Oh please play again! Please!" She tugged on the boy's costume pleadingly. "_S'il te plait! _Please Clopin! Play again!"

The boy, Clopin, laughed lightly and bent down to playfully tap the younger girl on the nose. "What was that little one? I'm afraid I didn't quite hear what you just said." He winked at her.

"_Filthy gypsies._"

Clopin was careful to hide his flinch at the words directed their way by one of the many Parisians on the street, and was relieved that the little girl hanging off his arm hadn't seemed to notice it.

"Please!" She continued gleefully, instantly quelling the anger rising inside Clopin. He shook his head to pull himself back to attention and smiled at her.

"For you Esmeralda," he replied. "I will do anything."

Esmeralda clapped her hands together again. "Play again!" She pleaded. "I want to _dance_!" She gave a little twirl. Clopin dipped into a playful bow and started to play his violin.

The lively melody soon attracted the attention of passers-by and a crowd started to form, all watching the flamboyant young man fully immersed in his music with a little girl dancing before him with movements so fluid it was as if she was the music herself.

Some members of the crowd were clapping along with the music, whilst some threw coins down at the feet of the violin wielding gypsy. He smiled at them in thanks and when he finished his song he bowed gracefully at the assembled audience. Esmeralda curtsied childishly.

"Thank you all!" Clopin exclaimed, holding his arms out. "Thank you one and all for taking time out of your busy lives to listen to me, The Magnificent Clopin, and to watch this wonderful dancer, who is the envy of all of France, La Esmeralda!" Esmeralda blushed and hid from the audience's gaze by hiding behind Clopin. The crowd, now without music to keep them there, started to disperse. Clopin knelt down to Esmeralda's eye level.

"You can't go hiding behind me every time," he told her. He took her hand and stood up. "You will be the best dancer in all of France _ma chérie_," he continued. Esmeralda smirked playfully at him.

"What do you mean I _will_?" She teased. "I already _am_ the best dancer in all of France!" She declared, letting go of Clopin's hand to give him a twirl worthy of a ballerina. Clopin recoiled back in mock horror.

"_Je suis désolé ma chérie!_" He cried, falling to his knees. "I pray that I haven't insulted you!"

Esmeralda stuck her tongue out at him and he put a hand over his heart in mock pain. He winked at her and she giggled.

Smiling slightly, Clopin looked up at the sky. "We should get back," he said. Esmeralda stopped giggling and gave Clopin a sad look.

"But I don't wanna go," she huffed. Clopin knelt down and placed his violin gently onto the cobblestones.

"I'm sorry my sweet, but we have to," he replied, slowly picking up the few coins that had been thrown their way during the performance. There weren't many coins, but there were enough for a loaf of bread. Or maybe even two. "We have to return to the-"

"Court of Miracles?"

Clopin's hand froze in the action of picking up the last coin as a new voice joined the conversation. Esmeralda gave a terrified gasp and Clopin could feel her suddenly standing directly behind him. Slowly he lifted his head and stared at the newcomer.

He immediately knew why Esmeralda was so scared. Standing in front of them, flanked by soldiers, was Judge Claude Frollo.

Clopin winced. '_Out of all the people in Paris we had to get caught by __him__!'_

Frollo had a terrible hatred of anything that, in his eyes, encouraged sin. This, somehow, had descended into a burning hatred for the gypsy people and Clopin shuddered inwardly. He'd heard first-hand what torturous punishments Frollo inflicted on his people and was already thinking up an escape plan.

"Monsieur Frollo!" Clopin explained in his usual, jolly tone. He picked up the last coin, stood up and then with his free hand he took his hat off and bowed…albeit mockingly. "How may we be of service?"

Frollo scowled at him. "You can serve me by getting your heathen ways off the streets."

Clopin's hat returned to his head as he nodded. "Yes your honour," he ducked down to pick up his violin and bow before standing up. He gave one last mocking bow to the Judge and took a hold of Esmeralda's hand. They walked away.

"Clopin!" Esmeralda hissed, her grip on his hand tightening. "They're following us."

Clopin sighed. "I know _ma chérie_," he replied softly, gently squeezing her hand. "We'll just walk around until they get bored with following us and then we'll slip off home."

Esmeralda frowned and Clopin bowed his head so that his wide-brimmed hat covered his doubt-filled eyes. He knew that he definitely had to get Esmeralda back to the Court of Miracles, no matter what happened. He'd appointed himself as her protector, and he _wasn't_ going to allow something to happen to her.

They ended up wandering around for what seemed like hours and the whole time Clopin was aware of at least two pairs of eyes upon him and his young companion. It was soon dark and Clopin realised that he had to find somewhere to go as soon as possible. Anything was better than trying and survive on the streets of Paris at night.

"Clopin," Esmeralda moaned tiredly, dragging her feet on the cobblestones. "Can we go home _now_?" She pleaded.

"I'm sorry _ma chérie_," he replied wearily. "But we can't." He resisted the urge to yawn, his gaze going skywards. He scanned the star-filled sky slowly; annoyed that the large structure that was the cathedral of Notre Dame was partially shielding the sky he loved so much from view…

It then hit him.

Notre Dame!

As much as he hated to admit it, Clopin knew that Notre Dame would be the best place to stay for the night. They could lose the guards and be gone early the next morning, but they _would_ have to be gone in the morning. Gypsies didn't do well behind stone walls.

He gently pulled Esmeralda in the direction of the square. She smiled sleepily at him and he replied with a bright smile of his own, despite knowing that Esmeralda probably thought that they were going to sleep in the colourful caravan that sat in a corner of the square, one usually used for puppet shows. He inwardly shook his head. Sleeping in that caravan would be a very bad idea. News regularly arrived at the Court of Miracles detailing the number of gypsies who had been killed because their caravans had been set alight as they slept within. No way in Hell was Clopin going to let that happen.

They'd got halfway across the square when Esmeralda realised where they were going. She simply looked up at him and he slowly shook his head. She sighed.

"Gypsies!"

Clopin stopped dead and turned his head to the side. Apparently Esmeralda wasn't the only person to figure out where they were going, as sitting on horseback at one of the many openings onto the square were at least six guards. All had their spears raised. Clopin cursed and set off at a run towards the cathedral, dragging Esmeralda with him.

Clopin prided himself on being rather fast. In fact, out of the other boys his age he happened to be the fastest. This was something that he enjoyed telling people and something that he enjoyed boasting about…not that he'd admit it out loud.

Despite being fast Clopin knew that he had no chance of outrunning six men on horses, and if they saw both him and his charge enter the cathedral then they'd be trapped. Clopin mentally shivered. He never liked the feeling of being caged in and as the furious sound of horses hooves assaulted his ears he knew that he had to act quickly.

"Esmeralda," He hissed as quietly as he dared. Esmeralda, panting hard, looked at him. "Go to the cathedral and I'll distract the guards. When we're out of sight go back to the Court, make sure you're not followed. If you are stay in the cathedral and I'll find you," he said quickly. Esmeralda looked like she was about to argue but Clopin pushed her forward and spun around to face the following guards. He held his arms out, gladly keeping an ear out for Esmeralda's retreating footfalls.

"Monsieurs!" He called to the guards. All six of them, so surprised that he'd stopped, had to pull harshly on the reins of their horses to avoid running him over. '_That's an upside I suppose._' He cleared his throat and continued on in his best show voice. "_Soldats_! It is your lucky day! Or night, as it is! You get to see the magnificent Clopin Trouillefou in action!"

He back-flipped away from the guards, one-handed to avoid crushing his beloved violin, and cringed. Some of the coins he hastily placed in his pocket had fallen out. He scooped down, in the semblance of bowing, to retrieve them and shot the guards a winning smile at the same time. He hoped that they hadn't noticed the coins because the default reaction to gypsies with coins was that they'd been stolen, even if they had been acquired through honest means.

But apparently Lady Luck wasn't on his side. Two of the guards saw the telltale glint of gold and charged at him.

"Thief!"

"Scoundrel!"

Clopin flinched and held up his hand. "Now now, there is no need for name calling!" The guards stopped.

"All gypsies are the same!" A particularly podgy guard said vehemently. Clopin raised an eyebrow and gently placed his violin under his left arm.

"Can you be sure about that Monsieur?" Clopin asked and placed the violin's bow into his mouth, transferring the coins to his right hand (now that they knew he had money there was no use in hiding the fact) and replaced them into his pocket. As he removed his hand from his pocket he carefully picked something up. He removed the bow from his mouth and clutched the violin's neck with his left hand.

"Gypsy!" The same guard yelled.

"Monsieur, I _do_ have a name you know."

The guard ignored him. "What do you have there!?" He boomed, his spear pointing at Clopin's right hand. Clopin raised an eyebrow.

"Well…if you _really_ must know…" He grinned evilly. "Catch me if you can!" He laughed and threw the smoke powder down. In the ensuing chaos he darted down a street to his right and ran as fast as his feet would carry him.

He growled when he realised, far too soon, that the guards had regained their sight and were hot on his heals. He saw an alleyway coming up to his left and flew down it…

And ran straight into two mounted guards.

He recoiled and tried to run out of the alleyway but was stopped by the appearance of another pair of guards. The remaining pair appeared from an alleyway further up the one he was currently standing in. He silently cursed, shifting around like a caged animal. One of the guards, the same man who had accused all gypsies of being the same, chuckled dryly and levelled his spear at Clopin.

"Now where do you think you're going _gitan_?"

The next few minutes were a blur to Clopin. He knew that one minute he was plotting an escape from six of Frollo's soldiers, the next…he was getting beaten to a pulp.

Everything from then on merged into a mass of confusion, but Clopin was sure that the next few minutes that passed were the longest he'd ever lived. He felt himself being kicked, punched and jeered at from all angles. He felt his precious, _treasured _violin being torn from his surprised and slackened grip and by the time he was able to fully comprehend what was happening it had all finished and he was left lying, with hitching breaths and numb with shock, on the cold cobblestones of Paris. The icy taunts of the Parisian soldiers rang through the air, but he barely heard it over the sound of his blood pounding in his ears.

He sensed rather than saw the soldiers get bored and leave and for a while he just lay on the ground.

'_Ai…_' He groaned. His vision gradually cleared and the first thing he saw, to his horror, was the smashed remains of his beloved violin. Words couldn't describe what he felt as he shakily sat up and gathered its remains, praying beyond hope that there would be some way to fix it but knowing deep inside that it was a lost cause. He pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the alley wall, and pulled his tattered hat back onto his head. Then, breathing heavily, he started to limp in the direction of the Court of Miracles.

Eventually he ended up at the same street corner he had performed in what seemed like an age ago. He stopped, to readjust the broken fragments of his violin, and froze as he heard sniffles. Sitting in the corner of the small street corner, hidden from a passing glance by the shadows of the night, was Esmeralda. Her head was buried in her knees and she shook with sobs.

"_Ma chérie_?" He asked, surprised. The little girl's head shot up and her eyes, briefly shining with panic, soon shone with relief. She cried out and ran to him, enveloping him into a tight hug. Clopin tensed, fighting back a pained cry, and patted the top of her head soothingly. "Why are you still here?" He asked, voice cracking slightly. Esmeralda sniffed and wiped her eyes.

"I got lost," she whispered as she bowed her head. "I've never gone back to the Court by myself before…and it's dark…I didn't know the way," she continued meekly. Clopin knelt down and gently lifted the small girl's head up so that she met his eyes.

"_Ma chérie-_" Clopin started, but Esmeralda cut him off.

"Clopin! You're bleeding!" She pointed at his face. Clopin grimaced. Because they were so close his wide-brimmed hat couldn't hide the blood that had trailed unnoticed from his nose. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood off, smiling reassuringly.

"I am fine," he replied, stuffing the rag back into his pocket. Esmeralda looked sceptical and her gaze wandered. She gasped.

"What happened to your violin?!" She asked, horrified. Clopin took her hand and stood up.

"It…does not matter _ma chérie,_" he replied evasively. He then continued, changing the subject. "So, you don't remember the way to the Court then?"

"No…" Esmeralda replied. Clopin smiled and knelt down again.

"Well, I have a way that may help you find your way. That is if you ever get lost again," he said and felt around his neck. He then gripped a piece of string and pulled it up over his head. He then held the pendant up to Esmeralda's curious green eyes.

"What is it?" Esmeralda asked, delicately touching the woven picture on the end of the string.

"It's a map," Clopin replied.

Esmeralda tilted her head and looked at him, a question in her gaze. Clopin smiled fondly and slipped the string over her head. He guided her hand to the charm.

"_Quand tu porteras ce tissage, tu tiendras la cité dans ta main_."

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**I was politely asked for the French translations, so here they are! If I've missed any please feel free to let me know.**

_**Ma chérie**_** = My dear (to a female)  
**_**S'il te plait! = **_**Please  
**_**Je suis désolé ma chérie = **_**I'm sorry my dear  
**_**Soldats**_** = Soldiers  
**_**Gitan**_** = Gypsy  
**_**Monsieurs**_** = Sirs  
**_**Quand tu porteras ce tissage, tu tiendras la cité dans ta main **_**= When you wear this woven band, you hold the city in your hand**


End file.
